Burgundy Met Burgundy
by slytherinsiren
Summary: Victoria reminisces on the first time she met James while she is on the hunt for Bella.


"Would you follow me, Victoria?" he asked me; his burgundy eyes alight with amusement, and a slight undertone of trepidation. The latter gave me a twinge of excitement in my paralysed heart. How could he think I would ever do otherwise?

"Of course," I answered, and I reached out to brush my fingers against the pure white skin of his forearm. He smiled at me, a devious expression, then grabbed my hand and guided me into the darkness of the forest.

--

Before my dark birth, I was an engaged seventeen-year-old, waiting for her _one true love_ to return from the war in the Pacific. I know now that I did not love him. Never did I experience the sensation of pure elation, the feeling of being _complete_. No. I never felt that way until I met James. I knew it from the moment burgundy eyes met burgundy in that cold, dark alley.

Our meeting is my most vivid memory. I was still quite young to my immortal life—only seven years old—though the naiveties of my mortal life had long since gone and I had a considerable amount of self-control and discipline when it came to my instincts.

It was mid-winter in Pittsburgh, only a few hours after sunset. I had just fed and decided to content myself with exploring this new city, sucking it everything it had to offer. I was strolling through the market district when I caught his scent. It was intoxicating, smelling slightly of rich bourbon. Naturally I followed. Ten minutes later I found myself at the mouth of an alley and there he was, standing over a crying and shaking mortal girl. The taunt before the kill. I backed out of sight and peaked out from the corner of a building.

My eyes were glued to the sight before me when he finally went in for the kill. The combined scents of him and the blood hit me with the force of a bullet, but I remained where I was. I would not disturb this dark angel. After what seemed like an eternity, the victim was drained and he rose. He turned quickly. I knew he sensed me then. I slowly stepped out from my hiding spot and burgundy eyes met burgundy. He smiled at me and I returned the gesture almost shyly. Never before had I seen such a beautiful creature. A small gust of wind blew his dark hair around his face and sent his scent wafting towards me. From then on, I was his prisoner.

He took a step forward. "What's your name?"

"Victoria," I responded.

"Victoria," he repeated, tasting my name on his tongue. He smiled and took another step forward. It was as if my feet had minds of their own and I took a step forward as well. "It's a pleasure, Victoria. My name is James."

Another step from him. Another from me. This repeated until we were standing face to face, barely an inch between our marble bodies. Heat radiated between us, a kind of heat that is unfathomable when speaking of vampires.

"Victoria," he whispered so quietly that it was nearly inaudible to my immortal ears. He bent his head low, as if he wanted to kiss me. He had the tiniest drop of blood on the corner of his mouth and, daringly, I stood on the balls of my feet to bring our lips together, stealing the blood before I traced the part of his lips with my tongue.

As the years passed he taught me all he knew about being a vampire. The perfect way to kill, how best to choose my prey… Everything. I am grateful for this knowledge, but he is all I've ever needed. All I will _ever_ need. My James. My dark prince bathed in immortal light. Mine for eternity. How funny that I think in terms of eternity and actually have it hold meaning...

---

I'm regrettably forced to wake from this dream now and continue on my quest. The bronze one—Edward, I think his name is—killed my beloved because of a human. My soul is ripped apart and now I only know vengeance. I must find and kill the human girl, making him suffer as he made me suffer. I want him to hear her screams and pleas inside of my head, watch her writing in agony under me. He can kill me if he pleases afterward. Life matters little to me anymore without James.

Perhaps, if the religions are true, I will be with James again. Either in heaven or hell, I do not know and neither do I care. Our stone hands will clasp together once more, and I will lay my head against his cold, hard chest. Our heat will come again and I will turn my head up so burgundy can meet burgundy once more.


End file.
